


Darkness Marked

by bronwe_calen



Series: Darkness Marked [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate History, Angst, BAMF Hobbits, Culture Shock, Fell Winter, Gen, Hybrid Hobbits, Middle Earth, Minor Character Death, Sassy Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronwe_calen/pseuds/bronwe_calen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." - Hamlet</p><p>The history of Middle Earth is long, stretching back many ages, to even a time before the sun and the moon graced the sky. In the long years, much has happened and much as been lost, even a whole race. The Cementumenosse, in the common tongue, 'the wielders of earth'. Are naught but legend, even among their kin, the Elves. However, their history, and especially, one of their number, will have a marked effect on the world. It could be for good or it could be for evil, for all of the Cementumenosse are Darkness Marked. The pain of their history etched into their very soul. </p><p> </p><p>TAGS TO CHANGE AS CHAPTER ARE ADDED<br/>PLEASE READ NOTE AT END OF CHAPTER 1</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All things of Middle Earth came from the mind of Iluvatar, the One, the Creator. All things that were and are, were sung into existence by those born of his thoughts, the Ainur. Much that the Ainur sang about, they did not understand, but understanding was not theirs to have for they were created to sing for the pleasure of the One.

When Iluvatar chose to reveal what their song had created, those of his thoughts were filled with great joy at the sight the World and the children who were to come. Then thirteen of the Ainor chose to leave the side of Iluvatar and help prepare the world for the Firstborn, who would be called Elves and the Followers, or Men, who were the One’s children. These thirteen Ainor became known as the Valar and worked many ages using their gifts and talents to create a place of beauty for the Children to come.

There was one, however, in which a darkness grew, and Melkor, mightiest of the Valar, began to yearn for a power which was not his to have. He wanted control and command of the Firstborn, to be lord over them. He desired for them to worship and praise only him. This lead to strife between Melkor and and the other Valar. It was not long before the first of the great wars broke out. Aule, the craftsman, the smith, and Tulkas, the strong, the champion worked to try and subdue Melkor, to keep him from destroying all that had been created. The wars continued and because of them, the home of the Valar was in a state of such unrest, that the coming of the Firstborn was missed by all but Melkor.

In his desire to turn the Elves against his former brothers and sisters, Melkor took the form of Orome, the huntsman, the Vala who spent the most time in Middle Earth, and hunted the newly awakened beings. Those who were separated from their kin, he stole away and they were never heard from again. Once in his grasp, the elves met cruel fates as he tortured them, breaking their spirits and twisting them beyond all recognition. These poor souls gave rise to the race of Orcs.

However, there was a small handful of elves that were somehow able to escape the cruelties Melkor had in store for them. They travelled together across Middle Earth, never staying in any one place for long in case the Black Vala wanted his victims back. It was not long, before they came across some of their kin. They were able to remain with them for a time, before the Eldar became weary of the ones they called Cementumenosse, the Earth Wielders.

For as much as they desired to be as good and pure as they were before, their very souls were marked with a darkness that was inescapable. They were much the same as their elvish kin with strength beyond their size and unparalleled senses and agility. However, there were other changes that came to be feared. Those who had escaped from Melkor now had the ability to command all that was around them to move to their will. The only exception being anything made of iron, for the very skin on their bodies remembered the torture they lived through and turned raw and red at a simple touch of the metal. This carried over to their abilities and they could not control anything made of the substance.

There were also physical changes that the darkness wrought. They had sharper teeth and great craving for meat and the hunt. Their voices, while enchanting, did not have the same songlike lilt of their kin. They were more like a well crafted sword, something beautiful to look at, but sharp and deadly as well. Their eyes had also changed, they were no longer the soft tones of plants and sky, but more akin to Aule’s precious stones, lovely but cold and ringed in black. Bodies held sharper angles and were more muscular.

There was some years of tentative peace between the two groups, but eventually an accident took place and a young noble elf perished at the hands of a Cementumenosse. Tensions escalated and soon the Marked Elves were forced out, sent away from their once kin. Again, those who escaped Melkor found themselves wandering the lands of Middle Earth.

Many ages passed before they interacted with another race. In fact, it was none of the original Cementumenosse, who first stumbled upon the race of Men, but some of their children. These young one had heard the stories their parents shared about the dangers of the Dark Vala and the closed hearts of their Eldar kin. However, the darkness that was in the souls of their fathers and mothers, was mischief and adventurousness in the young. So, they ventured out from their homes and into a world, where most did not even know that they existed.

Word of the ‘fair ones’, quickly spread among the race of Men and soon Dwarves, because the Elves were rarely seen, for they were at war with Melkor after the stealing of the Silmarils. Having never heard the stories of the Cementumenosse from the Elves, the Men and Dwarves held no ill will for the people they called the Cae. In fact, there was amusement at how this seemingly ageless group, acted much like teens, full of energy and causing mischief from time to time.

It was in their time living with the mortal races that the Cae discovered that their habit of only speaking the truth was quite uncommon in the world. In fact, it was quickly learned that habit was something so ingrained in their being that they could not lie. However, much like they learned they could control the movement of the physical things around them, it was discovered they could also cause those around them to speak naught but the truth as well. This ability pleased the leaders of Men and Dwarves and the Cae became advisors of the high courts. Meetings between two groups, although not always going smoother, because everyone was always brutally honest and that can be hard to take, were more productive as all interested parties would state specifically what they wanted and there were rarely hidden motives.

Not all of the Cae worked as advisors, some were drawn down the path of the warrior. In wanting to hide their telekinetic ability, they chose a weapon to master instead. Most took up the bow and arrow, because swords, axes, daggers all had iron in them and it was not worth it to the Cae to be burned by each accidentally brush of the metal against skin. Additionally, they could use stones as arrow heads and avoid the metal altogether. Their keen eyesight gave them unmatched ability with the bow. They proved to be very good warriors and were quickly accepted as honored members of the armies.

Sadly, these days of peace for the Cae were not to last.

It must be said there was a very evident difference between the First Cae and their children. Those who had lived through Melkor’s tortures and escaped had black rings around the edges of their eyes. Their children, the Second Cae, did not. Their eyes were just bright jewel tones that shone in the right light. The first Cae hoped that since their children did not have the Mark of Darkness, they all carried that they had avoided having such evil stamped on their soul. This was found not to be true and that when awoken, the malevolence had a far more deadly impact.

The race of Men did not hold to the same standards that the Elves and Cae and not all could be considered good and that was where the trouble began. Depending on who you ask, the story of what happened is different. The histories of Men claim, they were attacked without warning or cause. The long memories of the Cae tell a different story.

It's the brief story of young she-cae known as Vórima, the youngest of the Cae children. Her eyes were a bright sapphire blue and she had hair of the palest gold. Out of all of her kind, she most embodied the purity the First Cae had before they were taken by Melkor. Although she was young according to Cae standards, she had recently reached her second century of life. Like many of her kin, she was very curious about the world and wanted to know more about where she lived. So, one day she set out with her best friend and older brother, Haldanár, and together they explored the world around them.

Two years into their venture, for time does not pass the same for immortals as is does for mortals, they passed through a town of Men who had never had met any of the Elves or Cae, so Vórima and Haldanár attracted quite a lot of attention and not all of it good. It was two days after they left the town that disaster struck. Haldanár was hunting, leaving Vórima at their campsite to prepare the rest of the meal.

No one know exactly what happened, but when Haldanárë arrived back at their campsite, he found evidence of a struggle and Vórima was gone. Dropping his kills, he took off into the woods following the tracks left by the men. It should have been an easy hunt, but Men can be clever and soon Haldanár found a place where the trail split and he did not know which to follow. Unfortunately, his choice was wrong and it had terrible consequences.

By the time that he found his sister, she was gone. His cry of anguish split the air as he cradled her broken and cooling body. So overcome by grief, he did not immediately notice the changes coming over him and it was sometime before he knew his jade green eyes were now ringed in black. After mourning for a time, he burned Vórima's body as was the custom of the Cae, allowing the wind to spread the ashes as it willed.

From here, the stories are the same. The town from whence the men came who killed Vórima was slaughtered. Haldanár gave no thought to man, woman or child as his need to exact revenge drove him. It was this action, the very fact that one Cae destroy a town of over three hundred people for no easily seen reason, that caused the Men and later the Dwarrows to break ties with the Cae. In fact, both rallied their armies against them, but most of the Cae had already disappeared returning back from whence they came.

To all of the major races, the Cementumenosse disappeared. As generations passed, naught but the ancient annals of Men and Dwarves and the only memories of the Elves remembered the Cae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first chapter. There's good news and bad news. The good news is that I have the first seven chapters written. The bad news they are handwritten and need to be updated for my new underlying plot line. What this means, is that I make no promises to update with any regularity. If I can find time to write and rewrite, you might get the next chapter(s) fairly quickly. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. It has not been beta read, so let me know if you see any mistakes. Also, if you would like to be my beta reader, feel free to let me know. I would love some assistance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More history.

Not much has ever been known about the race many call Halflings, or the Kuduz, as they call themselves. While Men and Elves can trace their beginnings to the musical utterances the Ainor sang for Iluvatar and the Dwarves to the Vala Aule, whom they call Mahal, none know from whence the Hobbits came. 

It is the common belief among the other major races that the Halflings were created by Yavanna, wife of Aule, Vala of the earth itself. This, of course, would make them the sibling-race of the Dwarrows. Which is an acceptable theory, because even for all of their differences in appearance and mannerisms, at the heart of the matter, they are very similar to each other. Both hold a great love for that which their maker, real or supposed, is over; the Dwarves, their glimmering gems and mesmerizing minerals, which Mahal also prizes, and Hobbits, all that is green and growing, which is close to the heart of Yavanna. 

Looking at these facts, it makes sense to most, namely the men and elves, that Yavanna sang the Hobbits into existence sometime after the Elves, Dwarves and Men had awoken. 

_Is this the truth?_  
It may never be known. 

The Hobbits seemed to just appear during the Third Age of the Sun as it is uncertain how long they existed prior to the Elves of the Greenwood stumbling upon their established home near the Anduil River. The Halflings did not then,, nor in any of years following years share their history with the outside races. If they know the truth about their origins, it remains a secret, like much of the race of Little People. 

Of all the greater races, Dwarves are known for keeping many things concealed, even if they flaunt their supposed secrets. Most notable is their language; Khudzul is spoken freely in the presence of strangers, even though it is never taught to outsiders. The Elves have existed too long to have many secrets. They keep the best records of all of the greater races of Middle Earth, so anything you want to know is probably in a book and can be found in one of the libraries of the few remaining great elven cities. They have two major languages Quenya, from the Age of the Stars and Sindarin, which came along later and is known to many. The Men truly do not live long enough to care about obscuring things from the others. Much of their mind is focused on the here and now, progressing and improving. They do not take time from their busy, but short lives worry about keeping secrets as a race. They commonly use Westron, which is the shared tongue of all the peoples of Middle Earth, although different dialects have arisen has time has progressed. 

However, like much is assumed about the origin of Hobbits, the same can be said for their history and culture. They appear to be open and honest folk, who love the earth, eating and good drink, so there must not be anything dearer to them. No living being outside the race of Halfings has ever heard a Hobbit language, so it must not exist. 

Even though they are frequently looked down on, both literally and figuratively, the Kuduz are happy to allow the other races to continue believing incorrect information. This allows them to keep the knowledge of their history and their language as a jealously guarded secret. For such a laid back race, they are protective of what is theirs, even to the point where it is never used in the open or around their children, until the faunts are able to understand that they are not ever to share. 

There has never been a written version of the Hobbit language nor will there be, because once written, the chances of someone learning it increases an untold number of times. For this reason, all of their histories are passed down through stories, oral tradition. It is part of a faunt's coming of age ceremony that they must recite three different stories from their Histories for the family elders. This shows that all hobbits have learned their lessons, because they do not know what stories will chosen until they are standing before their elders. That, however is another story and not the one we want to tell right now. 

There is a particular part of Hobbit lore which is the most imperative to our story. It is the story of how the Hobbits and the Cae first met each other. It was a chance crossing of paths and would have far reaching consequences which would ripple down through time. For the Kuduz, it was during a time they call their Wandering Years, after they had left their home near the Anduil River, but before the Shire was established. 

Although content where they were, a darkness was seeping out the abandoned ruins of Dol Guldur was slowly infecting the Greenwood. The once beautiful forest began turning dark, dangerous and malevolent. While the Silvan SilvanElves of the Greenwood were able to protect themselves from these new troubles, the Kuduz could not. The elders of the great families made the decision to leave and find a new, safer home. 

They knew they did not want to travel east through the tainted Mirkwood and there was little promise about what lay on the far side of the forest. North would carry them to the Gray Mountains. While currently all was calm and the Dwarves well in control of their land, it had been know to be plagued by the Cold-Drakes, a kind of fire-less dragon that was still destructive and deadly. South would take them too close to the Dol Guldur, and past that point was inhabited by Men. So they went West instead. This was before the fall of Moria and while the mountain passes were treacherous, they were not yet inhabited by scores of goblins. It was while they were crossing the Misty Mountain, that the Kuduz first met the long forgotten Cae. 

An exact account of the encounter does not exist as each of the great families has their own version. What is agreed upon is that the Hobbits and the Cae, whom were called the Glwysed Tywyll Pobl by the smaller race, felt drawn to each other.

To the Hobbits, the Glwysed, for short, were enchanting. While their features made them seem darker than the few Elves who had crossed paths with the little people, there was something about them that seemed safe. With the trials the wandering Hobbits had faced, safe was of utmost importance. For the Cae, they were intrigued by the fact that the Kuduz were so truthful. 

Whatever the initial reasons for interactions between the two races, they ended up traversing the Misty Mountains and through the lands of Eregion and Minhiriath together. Over the course of those many years, the two races intermingled, leading to the Glwysed Kuzud. 

There were many well known Glwysed Kuduz throughout the Hobbit's history both before and after the settling of the Shire. This is the story of one, who held the fate of all Middle Earth in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. This chapter fought me all the way, but it is finally done. The good news is that chapter 3-6 are already typed and ready to go, so hopefully we will make some progress.
> 
> 04/26/16 EDIT: Corrected spelling of Dol Guldur.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to welcome the characters you know and love.

No one was really surprised at the birth of Belladonna and Bungo's child. It really was unusual for a hobbit couple to have trouble having a child, especially a couple who were as young as the Baggins or who came from such big families. However, when little Bilbo was born it was easy to see the evidence of the Glwysed Tywyll Pobl in his tiny features. One glimpse of his unusual dark brown locks and bright grey eyes threaded with silver and it was hard to see the Hobbit in this almost purely Cae child. It had been quite some time since a fauntling had been born with such a strong bearing of an almost forgotten time. It also explained why Belladonna and Bungo had trouble having children to begin with as the Glwysed had very few children over the course of their immortal lives and Hobbits who had Glwysed Kuduz, tended to have small families as well.

It was never really known why Cae traits would show up so strongly after years of dormancy. Currently, there were a handful of hobbits living who were marked as Glwysed Kuduz, but compared to Bilbo, they were only slightly marked. Of the other Fair Hobbits, the only distinguishing characteristic were their eyes, with barely noticeable ribbons of jewel-tone colors. The accenting colors were just a shade or two different than the main eye color and spiraled out from the pupil. There was no particular Hobbit family that held claim over the Cae blood, the intermingling of races had happened so far back, before even the count of Shire Reckoning had begun. The traits of the Glwysed could manifest in any Hobbit. 

At the time of Bilbo's birth, only one or two Glwysed Kuzud had the ability to compel the truth and only three or four had any telekinetic ability. Although neither Belladonna nor Bungo displayed any Glwysed traits, it was still not surprising that Bilbo did as that was the nature of the Fair Hobbits. However, what was unusual was the strength of the Cae ancestry in the little faunt. There had not been a Hobbit since Bullroarer Took, who had shown so many of the Glwysed traits or had such command of their gifts. It was believed that since Bullroarer had done great things, Bilbo was destined to do the same. 

As a young faunt, Bilbo had a good life, although his Cae heritage did cause problems. He had propensity for mischief, leading him and his peers to play all sorts of pranks and tricks on each other and the other residents of Hobbiton. In fact, his ability to plan and keen senses to enact the prank made him a favorite among his more adventurous Took cousins. Until the grown Hobbits learned to ask Bilbo directly what had happened and his Cae blood forced him to speak the whole truth and not skirt the issue, like most youngsters were apt to do. It was some moons before Bilbo was fully forgiven after a particularly weighty punishment and accepted back in by the other faunts, albeit with a new role to keep everyone out of trouble when playing jokes.

Like all faunts, Bilbo began his training with the elders of the Took and Baggins families around the middle of his teen years. He devoured his Hobbitish lessons, showing a gift for languages, so much so, that his mother began to teach him what little Elvish she had learned in her own travels. It was not surprising that he was fascinated with the stories of the Glwysed Tywyll Pobl, the Fair Dark Ones, or the Glwysed Kuduz, the Fair Hobbits. He had always known that he was different and it didn't take much for him to figure out why. Towards the end of his lessons, not long before his twentieth birthday, he spent time with some of the other Glwysed Kuduz to learn to control his gifts. It also afforded him the chance to learn the extent of what he could do with them. If he so wished, all beings with the ability to speak within twenty feet of him, would speak naught but the truth, should they choose to open their mouth. His telekinetic abilities worked a bit differently. With only his mind, he could pick up anything that he could with his own hands with but a thought. However, the lighter the object the further away it could be from him. That being said, unlike his ability to control others in speaking the truth, his telekinesis could grow with age and ability, if he chose to work to improve.

Yes, All in all, it could be said Bilbo Baggins had a good life and it appeared that he would not feel the awakening darkness that the was common to the Cae, but virtually unknown to their Hobbit relatives. However, everything changed during Fell Winter.

Contrary to what most of the other races believe, the weather in the Shire was not always perfect and pleasant. Winters can and often were quite dangerous, especially when the snow came, about halfway through the cold period. However, Hobbits are a most hardy folk and were able to endure the harsh conditions that the cold season brought with it.

Generally, winters were mild and the only real concern was digging out of a smial as the snows began to create drifts between the hills covering doors and windows. Some winters would be harder on the Kuduz, because food would be scarce. The Shire's state of plenty was directly tied to the weather and the weather could be quite finicky. While there were a number of hardy plants that could grow in most types of situations, most would be affected by too much or too little rain or sun. If the summer was too hot, wet or dry, there would not be much food to make it through the winter. Hobbits were and are a caring race and would help each other through the hard times, pooling and rationing food to make sure everybody had enough.

As bad as winter could be, Fell Winter however, was far worse. The summer had been unreasonably hot and the sun had scorched the earth. Only the strongest plants grew and still they did not produce near as much as they could. The river dropped and fish became hard to come by, which was troublesome as they were a staple meat for the Kuduz. Before winter even began, it promised to be a hard season, as pantries were only half full. However, there were few worries; it would be hard but the Hobbits had lived through many times like this and they knew the stories of the trials their ancestors had faced during the Wandering Years.

As hot as the summer had been, the winter was just as cold. The frost came early and could be found on the ground every morning. It was considered a good day if the ice actually melted. Then the snow came four weeks sooner than normal and to make matters worse it fell for three days without stop. Whole hills disappeared under white mounds and it took days for some families to dig out. Bilbo, having finished all of his training, helped where he could moving snow out of the way, but snow is very insubstantial and therefore difficult to move. His neighbors were thankful for anything that he could do with his telekinesis.

With all of the troubles that they were facing, the hobbits could have made it through the winter with only the very young and the very old being in any real danger, but that was not all nature had in store for them. Not long after the middle of winter came, the temperatures plummeted and a deep freeze crept across the land. The sun was not warm enough to thaw anything and ice collected on everything.

It was four days into the freeze that the first howl was heard and the winter turned truly deadly. For the Brandywine had frozen and wolves entered the Shire, something that had not happen in nearly two hundred years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read, please let me know if you find any mistakes. 
> 
> Two updates in a month, I am quite pleased. Chapter four is typed and being reread. Chapter 5 is written and in the process of being typed. More to come soon.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mom," Bilbo's voice rang out in the full smial. The Baggins family had been bringing Hobbits into their home for most of the winter and now the large home was quite full. "Where did Dad go?"

Belladonna brushed a lock of her curly hair out of face and looked away from the group of Hobbits gathered in front of the fire in the main room. "I don't know, Bilbo. I last saw him in the kitchen while I was working on the stew, but that was a few hours ago. I would check with Fosco and Ruby Baggins. Little Drogo has been feeling trapped so they took him to look out the window at the gardens, even though there is naught but snow to see. He has been spending a lot of time with them lately or they might have seen if he went outside."

Although his mother did not see him, Bilbo nodded in response and watching as her attention was diverted by some Hobbit calling her name. He wasn't paying close enough attention to find out what caught her attention, but he gathered it was someone with a question about food or a need for a healer. As a Took, Belladonna was a gifted healer, a skill learned out necessity from her more adventurous years. Many had hoped the wanderlust that was frequently present in the Took families, would skip Old Took's eldest daughter. However she seemed to have a double dose and had ventured father and in Hobbit in recent memory. 

The elder faunt smiled as he thought about this mother's attempts to teach him healing. Although he had tried his hardest, he had been able to master very few of the healing arts. He was always more destructive and had little ability to mend, build or heal. The healing arts would be beneficial, as he was always getting into problems that caused a wide range of injuries, they remained something he could not master. 

Shaking his head, the young Glwysed Kuduz made his way to his favorite cousins, although he had called Fosco and Ruby uncle and aunt. Fosco was the son of Bungo's uncle Largo, his grandfather's youngest son. Although there were many years difference in age, between Bungo and Fosco, the two had always been very close, even more so than any of Bungo's actual brothers and sisters. 

"Afternoon Uncle Fosco, Aunt Ruby and little Drogo," he said calling out to the family.

"Bilbo," Drogo shrieked, leaping from his Mother's arms and racing to his older cousin. Bilbo scooped the little brown haired faunt up into his arms. "Snow is everywhere outside. Everything is so white."

"So, it is little one. Are you enjoying looking out the window?"

"Yes, but I wanna go out and play."

Bilbo hid a grimace. "I know, but this winter is not safe. We must stay inside until the spring comes and chases away the snow." He frowned at the sad look on Drogo's little face, but there was little that he could do, not with wolves patrolling the very streets of the Shire.

"Hello, Bilbo," Ruby said, calling his attention away from her little son. "Was there something that you needed?"

"Yes ma'am, I am in search of my Father. Mother pointed me in this direction, I'm guessing she thinks you might have seen him recently."

"He came this way not too long ago, with his heavy jacket on," Ruby offered. "I asked him where he was going and he said to get more firewood. We have not seen him through these windows, so I can't say more than that, but the stores are on the other side of the smial."

Bilbo nodded his head in thanks to his cousins and passed Drogo back to his mother. "That gives me a place to start. I will be on my way." He turned and made his way toward the front door and the closet that kept some warmer clothing that any of the Hobbits currently staying in Bag End could use.

He was just pulling his jacket on, when a howl cut through the air. The wolf calls were sadly not that uncommon in the Shire this winter, but it was still early in the day. Not taking time to bother with the buttons on the coat, Bilbo tore the door open and darted outside. Once he cleared of the tunnel snow that surrounded their smial entrance, he began to quickly follow his Father's footprints in the newly fallen snow. As expected, they led to the store of firewood, but then away again, but this time they took him further from the house. Fear crept into Bilbo's heart as another howl sounded through the crisp air.

Finally, the Fair Hobbit came across a horrible scene. His father was crouched over something trying to protect it with his own body as wolves attacked. Bilbo could already see blood staining the ground, even from the distance he was at. With a scream of fear, he threw his hands forward, knocking the wolves away from his fallen kin. Breaking into a run, he made his way to his dad keeping the wolves at bay as he went.

Fear drained away to anger as the Cae-Born reached Bungo and saw his pale white skin, almost the same color as the snow. Small pebbles and stones began to swirl around the two as Bilbo lashed out with his telekinesis toward anything he could pick up and use as a weapon. The first stone flew with deadly accuracy into the head of an approaching wolf, when Bilbo noticed that the bundle, his dad was protecting with his life, moved. He did not take time to investigate, but turned to the beasts that had invaded his homeland and with the same accuracy as any elven archer, but far greater speed due to his ability to control more than one projectile, he slaughtered the wolves.

In less than two minutes, almost a dozen wolves lay dead surrounding Bungo and a quivering Bilbo. Finally turning back to his father, Bilbo rolled him onto his side, exposing a small fauntling, wrapped tightly in a blood soaked blanket. Gathering the child in his arms, Bilbo placed a hand to his Dad's chest, but felt no heartbeat or rise and fall of breath. A scream of anguish cut through the air and everything around Bilbo trembled with his grief.

This was the scene Belladonna and Fosco arrived on when they finally found where Bilbo had disappeared too. His right hand was resting on his father's chest, as the left held tightly to the Fauntling his father died to protect, surrounded by a ring of dead wolves, tears dripping down his cheeks.

It was some days later before anyone noticed the change in Bilbo. His overall countenance was darker, almost vengeful as he purposely went after any wolves that made their way into Hobbiton. However, it was the eyes that worried most Hobbits. Where they had been gray with bright and entrancing silver threaded through, their accents were midnight black and held a great deal of malice in them.

Bilbo was Darkness Marked; the first Hobbit to carry the full and heavy weight of the tainted soul of the Cae.


	5. Chapter 5

A light breeze caught a chocolate brown curl and pulled on it gently. It was swatted out of grey eyes and returned to its place resting against the smooth face of a Hobbit. 

Bilbo Baggins of BagEnd was sitting outside his hobbit hole trying to enjoy the first sun the Shire had seen in a number of days. While the rain was beneficial for the crops and the overall health of the Shire, the perpetual clouds were depressing, even for this most joyful of Middle Earth peoples. A few days of bright sunlight and warm breezes were in order. 

Bilbo turned his face toward the sky and watched the clouds as they drifted by. Although, he the picture of relaxation, his other senses were open to his surroundings, carefully monitoring of his corner of the Shire, much as he had done every day since Fell Winter. The marks in his eyes swirled to a deeper, almost more dangerous shade of black as he thoughts turned dark at the memories of the wolf attacks and the lives lost. 

He shook his head to chase aways his thoughts before the malevolent intent took over. Since his mother had passed, there was no one around to bring him back when the darkness crept through him. All of the mischief that he caused with his cousins in his younger days, was nothing compared to the terror he could weak now, if the condition were right. Some hobbits believed he had lost himself when the black entered his eyes, but he hadn't. He was in complete control of all of his actions at all times, how else could you explain that the horrible Sackville-Baggines were never harmed during one of his exceptionally dark periods. Instead, he chose to travel the borders of the Shire finding ways to work out the rage that consumed him. There was never much to do now, as most predators gave the Shire a wide berth. 

As he had been on his own for a number of years now, Bilbo was getting better at stopping the darkness before it could overwhelm him. He was only able to do so, because he held to a very strict schedule and did everything he could to be the respectable gentlehobbit that came with being a Baggins. 

A shadow drifted across his line of vision, breaking through his madulin thoughts. "Good morning ," he said out of politeness and normality, before really looking at the the person. It wasn't really the truth, he did not think that it was a good morning, but sometimes niceties could work around is inability to lie, be didn't really understand it, but at least conversation could start pleasantly. 

"What do you mean", the other replied and Bible tried not to roll his eyes as he directed his attention to the wandering wizard. "Do you wish me a good morning, or meant that it is a good morning whether I want it or not, or that you feel good this morning or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Cold gray and black eyes studied the wizard. "Do you want the truth or silence, Gandalf?"

The taller being gave an indignant huff. "The truth as always, Master Hobbit, as I know you will require the same of me." 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, but did not answer, choosing to take another pull of his pipe and blow a smoke ring instead. "I meant it with all of the politeness I could offer, although the you could take all but the third meaning should you desire."

"So, you do not feel good this morning?"

"If you must know, I have had very few mornings that could be deemed good since Fell Winter and even less in the last twenty years since my mother passed. However, you would know this is you ever came by any more, Gandalf." The Hobbit spat the name as his anger grew. "You claim to be a close friend of Mother, but where were you when we burned my father's body, because he died giving his very life to save a fauntling lass from the wolves who stalked the Shire destroying whole families? 

"Where were you when that same lass, like countless other flaunts, could not survive the harsh conditions of Fell Winter? 

"Where were you when we had to spend the first month of spring, not celebrating the return of Yavanna's plenty, but burning our dead and trying to recover?

"Where were you, ten years later, when my Mother lay dying because of a choice I made?" He cut off abruptly taking a shuddering breath and tried to regain control of his gifts and emotions. A collection of small stones circled about his head as everything else around him shook as if caught in stormy winds. At some point during his rant, he had stood up, anger pushing him to his feet.

Neither said anything for a few moments as everything began to settle, save for the stones that still moved in lazy paths about the Glwysed Kuduz. "What are you doing here," Bilbo asked finally, his voice a little weary and wary. Most would offer some sort of apology for such an outburst, but he could not something that he did not feel and he most certainly did not feel sorry right now, 

Gandalf did not answer right away for he could feel the strength of the Hobbits gift weighing heavily on him and even as a Maiar, he could not escape it. It had been a number of years since he had been around the gifted Hobbit and it was evident that his powers had only strengthened with age. The gray wizard would not be able to say anything but the absolute truth. 

"I am hoping to convince you to come on an adventure." He stopped himself from saying more, because while he could only speak the truth, it did not mean that he had to speak at all.

Bilbo dropped his eyes to the ground. "I stopped adventuring when Mother passed. I have felt little desire to go on one since then."

"Ah, yes, I understand," Gandalf said nothing at Bilbo's raised eyebrow and continued on. "I have a feeling you would be most…" He paused searching for a word. Useful had been on his tongue, but he did not want to convey that he was coming to the Glwysed because of what he was instead of who he was. "I believe you would offer something no one else in the company could, that you would be most instrumental in the success of the quest."

Something between a frown and amusement played across Bilbo's face. "In the space of two minutes, it has grown from an adventure to a quest with a company. What is it, Wizard?"

"I think the answer would come best from the leader of this exposition. Could I impose on your hospitality and send the group here around dinner? It would give you a chance to meet them and learn their perspective on the nature of their quest."

The smaller of the two pondered the request for a moment. "Very well, Gandalf, they may come, as long as you swear to do two things for me: first I want to know how many I will be hosting and their race and second, you warn them to mind themselves. I will not tolerate ill manners from guests of any type."

The ages blue eyes of the Maiar studied the younger intently, seeming to try and read his soul. "I will pass along your message to as many as I can and will hope they will listen. You can expect thirteen Dwarves and myself for dinner." With that Gandalf nodded his head, "Good morning, Master Baggins."

The dark haired Hobbit disappeared into his Hobbit hole, the circling stones following him inside. As Bilbo made his way to the kitchen, he did not see the Wizard etch a Dwarvish symbol into his door, nor that it glowed dimly in the mid-morning sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we've reached the events of 'The Hobbit.' 
> 
> Bilbo's mood changes rapidly. This is part of his personality and will be constant through out the story. 
> 
> I hope this meets your expectations. Hopefully more to come soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the company...

It ended up being a busy day for Bilbo as he worked to prepare a meal large enough for fifteen. He wondered if Dwarves ate as much Hobbits. From his wanderings he had learned a teenaged Hobbit could eat more in one sitting than a man three times his size. For whatever the reason, Hobbits needed more food than the other races, despite their smaller size. Since Fell Winter, many started to eat in excess, giving them a rounder appearance. It caused the other greater races to look down on them as gluttonous, as if they had forgotten that for centuries before they had been a more slenderly built race.

He wondered if the same was true with regard to the Darrows. If they needed more food, despite their smaller build. Bilbo had met very few of Mahal's children, and certainly knew none well enough to ask questions about their needs. He decided it was better to make more food rather than less, so he made enough to feed fifteen Hobbits, which is no easy task, all things considered. However, if it wasn't needed, he could always have leftovers for another day.

He was just setting the last of the utensils down when a knock echoed through his smial. Using his telekinesis, he straightened the house as he walked towards the green door, which marked the front of his house. Pulling it open, revealed a tall, mostly bald Dwarf with dark brown hair and beard armed with a pair of battle axes.

"Dwalin at your service," and the introduction was paired with an almost polite bow, if it had not been stopped about halfway through.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours." He pulled the door open more to allow his guest to come in. "I was told to expect thirteen, where are the rest of your traveling companions?" He released the tight hold on his ability to compel the truth, not really in the mood for lies, false statements or guessing games.

"They are on their way, for whatever reason the Wizard did not want us traveling together through your lands." There was a moment of quiet shock as Dwalin realized what he said without really intending to. However, he quickly masked the shock, as Bilbo nodded at the answer.

"You can leave your cloak on one of the pegs here and your traveling bags in the closet." The Kuduz closed the door then showed Dwalin the two areas he mentioned. Once that was done, he lead the Dwarf to the den. "I have dinner prepared, but it will wait until the rest of your company has arrived." Although, he was more than a foot shorter than Dwalin, his voice brokered no argument. Thankfully, it was not long before another knock echoed off the walls of the hole.

Silently, Bilbo disappeared from the room and made his way back to his front door. Pulling the door open, revealed a stoutly built Dwarf with a long white beard and matching hair.

"Balin, at your service," This time, he was greeted with a bow that matched his station as the owner of the home and host of a gathering.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours. Do come in Master Dwarf." Balin righted himself from his bow and came in the door. "You may hang your cloak on a peg and leave your things in the closet. I'll take you to the den."

Balin did not say anything, but made to follow the Hobbit's instructions. There was an air of caution that Bilbo did not really understand, but chose not to comment on. Soon, they were walking through the hall to join Dwalin in the den. The Glwysed watched the reunion between the two, who were apparently brothers, if their interactions were anything to go by. He was about to ask the pair, if he could get them tea, when two sharp raps sounded against the door.

The host of this unexpected party sighed and left the room mumbling about the horrible timing of Dwarves. Soon he was opening his front door again to reveal not one, but two Dwarves. Although one was fair and the other dark, the family resemblance between the two was evident.

"Fili…" the blonde offered.

"And Kili," the dark haired one continued.

"At your service," they said together as they dropped into matching bows. Their actions spoke of a closely shared bond.

"Bilbo Baggins at your. Come in." The two crowded in the door before he could say much more.

"I see two cloaks," the dark haired one, Kili said. "Who else is here, Mr. Boggins?"

"It's Baggins, Master Dwarf. Masters Dwalin and Balin have arrived and are in the den."

"Oh, very good," Fili cut in, having already hung up his cloak, even without being instructed to do so. "Here take these and be careful, I just sharpened them." He dropped his weapons into Bilbo's unexpecting arms.

Some of the metal on the hilt brushed against his skin. The sensation was was quick and sharp and the Hobbit recoiled in pain allowing the sword and axe to clatter to the ground. "I cannot and will not handle your weapons," Bilbo bit out in a sharp retort as he looked at the burned and blistering skin, standing out bright red on his forearm. "You may put them in the closet to your left." He looked up at the brothers who were looking at him in shock, but was distracted when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned an icy glare to Balin, who was watching the three intently. "I trust you will ensure, these two make it to the den with no issues."

Without another word he turned and stalked through a doorway, leaving the hall. It did not take him long to clean and bandage the burn and just as he was leaving the bathroom, there was the sound of someone or ones beating upon his door. Making his way through the empty hall, for Balin had managed to coral Fili and Kili into the den, he soon reached and opened the door.

This time there were five Dwarves at the door. Introductions were made all around and soon Bilbo found himself leading two sets of brothers to his den. With Oin, Gloin, Dori, Nori and Ori, the total number of Darrows in his house up to nine. This meant there were four Dwarves and one wizard still missing.

"I am sorry, Master Baggins," a voice rang out as they entered the room. Turning toward the sound, the Hobbit gathered it was Fili who had spoken.

"I am sure it was an accident," Bilbo replied carefully, "although you should be the only one to care for your weapons. Never entrust them to someone else." There were many murmurings of agreement from some of the older Dwarves in the room. Thankfully, there was yet another knock at his door, for he could tell Dwalin and Balin wanted to ask questions. He ducked out of the room, hoping it was the last of his guests, because frankly he was tired of answering the blasted door. He was grumbling about inability for Dwarves to travel together and therefore making things more frustrating for their host. Opening the door revealed Gandalf and three more Dwarrows.

After introductions, the slightly frazzled Glwysed helped Bombur, Bofur and Bifur get their things put away and directed them into the dining room. He told them to have a seat and he would collect the rest of the company. There was one person still missing, but as the majority was here, he figured they could begin the meal.

It was not hard to get the first nine to leave his den, although Balin and Dwalin did seem more ill at ease, than when they first arrived. Eventually, everyone was settled and the meal started in earnest.

"Who is still missing," Bilbo asked once all of his guests had a chance to get some food. He had been gently blanketing the room with his gift. He knew some were sensitive to his power, like Gandalf, and he had be practicing using it without the weight of his _coercion_ pressing in on others. It was quite unlike when he spoke with Gandalf this morning and he wanted the Wizard to know he was going to force the truth out of him.

"The leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. He had travelled to speak with more of our kin." It was Gloin who had spoken, when he say that neither Dwalin nor Balin were going to answer the question. The Kuduz nodded and returned to his meal without saying anything more, pulling back his gift, satisfied with the answer for now.

It did not take long for the twelve Dwarves to start talking amongst themselves, growing louder and more raucous as time went on. Bilbo was torn between trying to get them to calm down and allowing them the reunions and joy that came from seeing friends again. It wasn't that Hobbits didn't have loud get togethers, but those were saved for outside; indoor gatherings were a little more tame. He had just finished his salad and was no closer to making a decision, when his keen hearing picked up a knock at the door.

Moving to get up caught Bofur's attention and he watched the Hobbit leave the room. Bofur gave a soft, clear whistle drawing everyone's attention to himself. "Thorin's here." His voice was quiet, but clear and the whole company heard. They got up and crowded around the doorway leading the hall which have a clear view of the main entrance. They were surprised to see Gandalf already standing in the hall a little behind Bilbo, when no one remembered seeing him leave. They watched as Bilbo opened the door, revealing the last member of the company.

"Gandalf, I thought you said this place was easy to find. I got lost twice." Thorin had walked in, paying no attention to Bilbo, at least until the Hobbit let out a snort of amusement. Deep blue eyes turned to Bilbo, narrowing in anger as he looked over the shorter male. "I suppose this is the _Hobbit_."

"Yes," Bilbo replied bristling with anger. "And I suppose you are the leader of this group. I do hope you are not in charge of the maps if you cannot navigate the Shire without getting lost." It was rare he let his mouth get away from him, but something about this Dwarf grated against his already tried patience.

"Watch your tongue, Halfling," the Dwarf snapped back. "You have no clue with whom you speak."

"Oh, I don't, do I? You assume much, _Thorin Oakenshield_ ," Bilbo spat the name. "How lucky I must be to have the crownless king of Erebor, one of the lost Dwarven realms, in my smial." There were a couple of gasps from the company, because no one had told Bilbo, who Thorin was exactly. He took a step forward eyes glinting brightly. "You would do well to remember your training in diplomacy, it does not serve you to talk down to potential allies."

"Now, Bilbo, Thorin," Gandalf cut in. He was carefully choosing his words, trying to work around the Hobbit's power that was almost crackling in the air. "You both need to calm down. Let us finish dinner and speak with full stomachs."

"Very well, Wizard," Bilbo growled. He turned to the Dwarf king. "Do come in. You may hang your cloak on a hook and stow your things in the closet. I am sure the Wizard or one of your Dwarves can direct you to the dining room. I need to check on the desserts in the kitchen." With that he spun on his heel and stalked pasted the stunned company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that went well. To be honest it's not going to get better for a while now. Bilbo's got a bit more back bone and little more outspoken. 
> 
> As an update, I had to completely trash chapter 7. My original outline would have lead to the story ending pretty quickly, which I don't know what to do. Needless to say I am rewriting it, but also real life is a bit overwhelming right now, so no promises when the next update will come, sorry. 
> 
> Not beta read. If you are interested in Beta reading, please let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall apart in rather rapid fashion.

Thankfully dinner passed with few problems.

After a couple of moments of stunned silence, the Dwarves returned to the dining room and their meal. Bilbo came into the dining room much calmer than when he left and was carrying a pair of pies.

However, everything started falling apart in a spectacular fashion once the meal had concluded.

“Now, that the meal has finished, let’s clear the table and talk.” At Thorin’s words, there was a flurry of activity as Bilbo’s dishes and utensils began being passed and tossed about the room.

“Excuse me,” the Hobbit  called, “there’s no need for that, I can manage quite well on my own.” He was ignored, as the worse guests, he had ever had the misfortune to host began to sing.

 

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!  
_Blunt the knives and bend the forks!  
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates -_

 

“ENOUGH!” Bilbo roared out, praying to any Valar that would listen for patience and wondering what he had done to deserve this punishment. Everything in his smial seemed to shudder with the force of his rage. He had been perturbed since Gandalf and ‘imposed’ on his hospitality, upset since Dwalin and his impolite greeting had knocked on his door. His ire had only risen as the night had worn on. He was close to having it under control until _King Thorin Oakenshield_ had opened his self-centered pompous mouth. Now, the last thread of control had snapped and the Dwarves were in for an explosion that few had ever seen and Bilbo wasn’t even going to try to stop it.

“Enough I say,” his voice dropped to barely above a whisper but carried and was dripping with disgust. “You are guests in MY home and not some low-end tavern. I expect a little respect. Those dishes are one of the few things of my mother’s that I was permitted to keep after her passing. I would appreciate it if you would treat them like you would any of your own family heirlooms. They might not be as grand to you as any weapon, but they hold the same importance. The Shire has known relative peace since its founding. Disputes are settled over dinner tables, status is displayed in the quality and age of your cook and dinnerware."

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo broke off from his impromptu culture lesson. He rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling very weary. He turned to Gandalf, whose eyes were glinting with amusement. It honestly made Bilbo want to hit him.

“Did you even speak to one of them or did you just neglect my request entirely?” His voice was still quiet and he had to work to keep it from trembling, with some unknown emotion. “I only asked for two things, Gandalf, two. Was that so hard to ask or do you only care for your own plans? All I wanted was know how many I was providing a meal for and for you to pass on the request for them to be polite.”

“Now see here, Halfling,” Thorin cut in. “This is a company of Dwarves. You cannot expect them to conform to Hobbit standards of behavior. They have shown most polite behavior.” As soon as Thorin had started speaking Bilbo had visibly tensed, now he was bristling, as he rounded on the displaced king.

“You, Master Oakenshield, would do well to remember that you are in the Shire, specifically Hobbiton, which the land of my people, Hobbits; not Dwarves. You are in BagEnd, a Hobbit home, _my home_. Even though you were not invited and most of you are not welcome, I still chose to provide a meal for you and your people, might I point out you and your company ate a month's worth of my food, that I buy with my money. From how the evening progressing, I will be offering you a place to state for the night, because the only place that can accommodate a group of your size is The Prancing Pony in Bree, which you will not reach before dark.

“From any of this, where do you get the idea that I need to comply with and allow behavior I deem unacceptable. I have already more than endured enough of your so-called polite behavior. Between, yourself, Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Nori, I had dealt with enough.” There were protests from the Dwarves at his statement, but Bilbo was not having it. His cool gray eyes flicked over the group and once silence returned, he spoke.

“Thorin has insulted me, pretty much every time he has opened his mouth. Dwalin greeted me with one of the most insulting bows I have ever seen. Fill and I have addressed our issue and he has been the only one polite enough to apologize. Kili, my name is Bilbo Baggins. B- **_A_ ** -G-G-I-N-S, Baggins. Nori, you had better return my silverware and other trinkets or there will be repercussions.”

“How do you accuse me of theft,” Nori shouted indignantly.

There was a dangerous glint in Bilbo’s eye as he snatched a knife off of the table and threw it the offending Darrow. There was a resounding thud, as the knife buried itself in the wood of the table between two of Nori’s fingers. “Do not _ever_ accuse me of lying,” Bilbo growled. “Return my items or you will find out how true my aim is."

Silence descended as all of the Dwarves looked at the nearly vibrating Hobbit in a mixture of awe and fear. When the offender made no move to comply with Bilbo's wishes, he took another knife off the table. Nori glared at their host, challenging him. Cold gray eyes narrowed, as the Glwysed Kuduz adjusted his grip on the knife.

"How dare you…" Thorin interrupted, but promptly stopped talking when he found a gleaming dagger pointed in his direction. His mouth snapped closed as he surveyed the creature who would dare threaten him. If he was honest with himself, a trickle of fear ran through him, because he had no clue where the halfling had pulled the well-sharpened blade from and he was without a sword.

"Let me make one thing clear," Bilbo hissed, eyes darting around the room, watching the Darrows, who were realizing the danger they were in. "I don't tolerate anything less than a Hobbit of my rank deserves. Now, you don't know what that rank is, but it does not matter because I am your host and you are merely guests. Degrading me, stealing from me and lying to me, is much less than the treatment I deserve. Of the three, lying is considered the worst in the eyes of a Hobbit. We are always truthful, to the point there are those who believe we have the inability to lie. So take this as the absolute truth, I can kill half of you before you would even realize it. Stop trying to test me."

He looked back to Nori and saw a pile of silverware and other trinkets that had not been there previously. Nodding, he flipped the knife over in his hand then secreted it away onto his body somewhere. Then, he returned his attention to Thorin, seeing if the king was going to challenge him further. He could see a fire burning in the other's eyes but took his silence as capitulation. The dagger, too, returned to its previous hiding place.

"Bilbo," a voice called, making the Hobbit turn to the speaker.

"Yes," he queried, meeting the confused blue eyes of the Maia.

"What happened?"

"I told you already." He sighed, his voice weary, there was a broken quality to it. "Do you want the truth or silence?"

"The truth, always the truth." Gandalf must have misunderstood something when he spoke with Bilbo this morning. The Hobbit was always wild, given his Cae ancestry, but never this violent.

"It was 1311 by Shire Reckoning, 2911 of the Third Age, when Fell Winter hit." His voice spoke of a deep pain. "I was 21, still considered a fauntling. I don't know what it was like for everyone else, but it was devastating for the Shire. It is believed half of our people died. The summer had been harsh and most of our crops failed. Then the snows and frost came early killing off the few fall crops that would have grown. The Shire has faced difficult winters before, but never this bad. Food was rationed early on, but families still ran out. We might have survived with only a few deaths, but the Brandywine River froze over and wolves entered the Shire."

His voice took on a dead quality, it was heartbreaking to the Dwarves to listened.

"Hobbits are not people of war. Metals are very limited and what little we have are used for farming tools and not weapons. Almost any Hobbit found outside was slaughtered. By then, my parents had already opened up BagEnd to others, the home was full of Hobbits. Living together with that many was hard, but we did the best we could.

"I remember it to this day, the sights, sounds, smells. My Dad gone out to get firewood. It was day and the safest time to venture out. We don't know what happened, but he was drawn away from the house. I went looking for him after a while, to eventually find him surrounding by wolves. After slaughtering the animals, I rushed his side. He was dead, but his body was crouched over something, a small fauntling not more than a year old. I guess her parents had been coming to BagEnd for help and were killed along the way, I don't know. Unfortunately, the fauntling died a few weeks later from her exposure to the elements. When spring came, there were so many dead, we couldn't give them all proper burials. There was no celebration of new life that year, just smoke filled skies and the stench of burning bodies."

Bilbo lapsed into silence. The Dwarves did not know what to say to him. It was easy to tell he was haunted by his memories.

"Oh, Mr. Baggins," Ori said, making an aborted movement to comfort the smaller man.

"Ten years later," Bilbo continued without acknowledging that someone had spoken, "two years before I reached my majority, I watched as my mother was gravely and purposefully wounded. I held her in my arms as the blood flowed out of her body and the light dimmed from her eyes." He turned tear-filled eyes to the wizard. "Is that what you wanted to know Gandalf? Does that answer your question of why I am not the same fauntling you remember? I have seen death, I have delivered death, but…" He broke off turning away. He had to be truthful, but he did not have to speak and there were some things the Istari did not need to know.

"Oh, Bilbo." Gandalf reached out to the Hobbit and touched his shoulder. Bilbo pulled away from the attempted comforting touch.

"If you need somewhere to speak, the den is open." The Kuduz walked to the table and placed his hands on it. He was not speaking to anyone in particular, but he needed them to leave. "Balin, know where it is. I will clean up in here."

The weariness of his voice brokered no argument. The Dwarrows filled out into the hall. Gandalf looked at him again, before following the company, pulling the dining room door shut behind him. Once he was alone, silent tears trickled down Bilbo's face as the dishes and silverware jumped into the air making their way into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the extreme delay. Life has been and is crazy. Additionally, the story changed its mind about the directed it wanted to take, a rewrite was needed for this chapter, which turned out more angsty than I thought it would be. 
> 
> I don't have any intentions of writing the Dwarves reactions to Bilbo's story. If you would like one let me know.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can the Dwarves convince Bilbo to come on their journey? Will Thorin even allow them too?

Although he did work quickly given his gift, it was some time before Bilbo chose to venture into the den. A hush fell over the room as the Darrow turned to look at their host.

"Is there anything that you need?" The Hobbit's voice was dull, lacking all the emotion he had shown earlier in the evening.

"Not at this time, Master Baggins." It was Balin who had spoken first, wanting to prevent another potential argument from erupting between Thorin and Bilbo. It had been some time since the advisor had seen two personalities clash so violently and quickly. "If you would join us, it would be appreciated. I would like to take time to tell you about everything we had thought you had agreed to some time ago when Gandalf told us to gather here."

At those words, Bilbo turned glinting gray eyes towards the Istari. "Yes, please. I would love to not be in the dark much longer, especially considering I had no knowledge prior to this morning. Gandalf only asked if I would like to go on an adventure, then at my denial that I let you come for dinner." His voice was now steely and many of the Dwarves released a silent sigh of relief as he directed his angry on the Wizard.

Even though Bilbo was small in stature, he had a danger about him, while not noticeable upon first meeting, had reared its head and caused the more world-wise members of the company to notice. This was actually evident in the fact that Thorin was now allowing Balin to lead the discussion. Bilbo took an open seat by the fire that had been coaxed back into existence.

"As you already seem to know," Balin was still acting as the spokesperson and was truly the most knowledgeable Dwarf present. "Thorin is the current leader of the kingdom of Erebor. The majority of the company are of the same kingdom although some herald from other places. Many years ago, the kingdom of Erebor was attacked and taken over by a dragon."

"Yes, I know of Smaug, designated as the chief calamity of the age, yet history shows that he is one of the smaller fire drakes to have graced the land. It is believed that the finding of the Arkenstone and the gold madness it induced in Thrain that called to the dragon." Bilbo was keeping his voice devoid of emotion as he recited the facts he had learned over the years. While he was not pressing his guests for the truth, it did not save him from being tied to his own power. Personally, he had never understood the Dwarves' and Men's desire for precious metals and stones but had learned that most did not understand the Hobbits love for green spaces and all that grew. In his life though, he had never seen anything harmful in tilling and caring for the ground. As long as it did not lead to gluttony, and attempting to take more than you needed, growing, harvesting, gardening, the life of his people presented no harm to others. On the other hand, many had lost their lives in the quest for gaining and keeping metal and stone. History was full of the harm that came from the greed of others.

"You are very well versed in our histories, Mr. Baggins," Ori commented.

"Not really, young Ori. My mother had a great fondness for the fair folk of Rivendell and took me a few times when I was young. Lord Elrond's twin boys always indulged my curiosity and taught me both of the written and spoken Elvish languages. In one of her longer visits, before my Father died, I read a lot of the library of the Eastern Lands as that is where Hobbits herald from. Naturally, Erebor came up in many of the annuals sent from the Elven Kingdom of Mirkwood."

"Then you are only getting half of the story," Thorin growled.

"Of course I am. I am not stupid, I know this. However, you Dwarves are the most pigheaded when it comes to protecting your secrets. The story of the fall of Erebor has barely been told by your people and as such is not known. I can only know half of a story if only one side chooses to talk. My perceived lack of knowledge is through no fault of my own. I cannot learn what is not available." Bilbo crossed his arms and glared at the King daring him to be contradictory.

Thorin was learning however that the Hobbit before him did not care for his supposed standing as a king and was therefore not intimidated by him. Master Baggins was not being rude, as the men frequently were because they looked down on the Dwarves. He was being polite and cordial enough to Balin and many of the other members of the company. However, Thorin had drawn his ire and that every little action only seemed to enrage the Hobbit more. Thorin did not know what to do, even though the Halfling had shown admiral skill with throwing knives, the king did not see him as necessary and there was something that Thorin just did not like about Bilbo, something that he could not explain. This time he chose to hold his tongue, knowing that the other was in the right, even if he would never admit it.

Sensing that there would be no battle of wills, Balin continued to speak. "Our thatrûn and thatrûna tell that the signs all point to now being the time to take back the mountain. News from the east says that the dragon has not left his mountain in nearly six decades. Additionally, it reaches us from our kin in the Iron Hills that the Men of Laketown and the Elves of Mirkwood, grow restless in the shadow of the mountain. It is believed Thranduil is planning on marching on our home to secure it for himself. If we are going to take back our homeland, we need to do so before any others also read the signs in the stars."

"That explains why you are going, but what does it have to do with me? I don't mean to sound rude, but I have no vested interest in going." Bilbo's eyes held Balin's. "I am not a dwarf, Erebor is not my homeland. You are asking me to risk my life and face a dragon, why?"

"As Gandalf refuses to be counted as a member of the company, we are in need of a fourteenth person, as thirteen is unlucky. Gandalf was the one who selected you to be our fourteenth member and burglar."

"Burglar? Why do you need another? You already have Nori, while not the slyest I've met, very apt. I also don't see how the presence of another will make a vast enough difference if you are planning on fighting a dragon."

"It will make a great deal of difference young Bilbo," Gandalf offered, speaking for the first time. Fourteen sets of eyes turned to the wizard, although only one was narrowed as if daring Gandalf to speak of his nature. "Hobbits are very quiet and stealthy beings by nature, you even more so if the stories of your childhood are to be believed. What is more, Smaug will not recognize the scent of a Hobbit. Plus, I know you have a great deal to offer if you simply allow your Took nature to come out. In fact, it was well known you ancestor, Bandobras Took, also known as Bullroarer… "

"Yes, yes," Bilbo cut it. "You don't have to tell me my own family history. I am well versed in it."

"What did this Bullroarer fellow do?" Kili asked. As the youngest of the company, he could still tell when there was a good story that needed to be told.

"It was during one of the few battles that have taken place in the Shire. It was around a century and a half ago and goblins invaded the Northfarthing. It is said that Bandobras Took was large enough to ride a horse and was the one to lead the Hobbits into the battle. He is said to have knocked the head of the goblin chieftain's head off with his club, but I am sure that is just an embellishment."

"Wow, Mr. Baggins," Kili said, taking time to say the name correctly. "It sounds like you come from a mighty family, the Tooks."

"Some would call them that Kili, I am sure that is why the Thainship has remained in the Took family for so long. Each family has their skills, and leadership is one of the Tooks."

"What is a Thain?' This time it was Ori, who piped up. The young scholar had a thirst for knowledge that few were able to slate.

"Primarily, the Thain is the leader of the Took family, my mother's family. He also has the rights to call a Hobbit-Muster, an emergency meeting of all the families, and is the leader of the Hobbity-in-Arms. However, both of those are primarily ceremonial, as neither has been called for since the Battle of Greenfields."

"So would that make him your king?"

"No, Hobbits have no such thing as a king. Most just view the Thain as the leader of the Took Family. Some might say the Thain's word has more weight, but he can in no way control the other families. Additionally, a woman can never be the Thain but can be the leader of Family Took. As I said, it's mostly a ceremonial title at this point. I believe we are getting dreadfully off topic. Master Balin, I thin…"

"Wait," Kili interrupted. "I have one more question. You said that your mother is a Took. Does that mean you are in line to be this Hobbit-king person?"

Bilbo sighed and felt eyes turn toward him. "All male Hobbits are in line, however, between my cousin Fortinbras, who is Thain, and myself there are twelve male family members, I believe. I have forgotten how many sons Uncle Isembold has had. However, it is all moot, because I am ineligible."

"Why?"

"A Hobbit can only be the leader of one family, I am the current leader of the Family Baggins." He turned to where Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin were standing. "This is one of many concerns I have with going on your venture. Many here rely on me as the family head. I couldn't leave without making the appropriate plans, you must understand if I were to go."

"Of course Master Baggins," Balin replied. "The rest of the company has had months to prepare for leaving. This has very much been sprung on you. At least, while you are considering, let me give you our standard contract for your perusal." Balin turned to a small pouch he had kept on his person and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of parchment, which he passed to Bilbo.

The Hobbit nodded. "Gandalf has stayed here before and can direct you to washrooms and spare bedrooms. They will be dusty as I have not had a need to host this many in some time. I will leave you to your own devices and give you my decision in the morning."

"It is our intention to set out on our travels early."

Bilbo looked at Thorin. "Given your propensity for getting lost, Master Oakenshield, I would highly recommend that you not leave before the break of dawn. As I am an early riser, you will have your answer. Good evening." With that, Bilbo left the Dwarves.

He stayed up long into the night, reading over the contract which would not do and considering his options. Just as he was going to turn in for the night, his sensitive ears caught the sound of singing drifting through the halls.

_The pines were roaring on the height,_   
_The wind was moaning in the night._   
_The fire was red, it flaming spread,_   
_The trees like torches blazed with light._

_The bells were ringing in the dale_   
_And men looked up with faces pale;_   
_The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,_   
_Laid low their towers and houses frail._

_The mountain smoked beneath the moon;_   
_The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom._   
_They fled the hall to dying fall_   
_Beneath his feet, beneath the moon._

_Far over the Misty Mountains grim_   
_To dungeons deep and caverns dim_   
_We must away, ere break of day,_   
_To win our harps and gold from him!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely sorry for the delay in this story. I have by no means forgotten it, but had a few wonderful, but crazy years. The biggest reason for my delay is that I got married last summer!! My husband and I are getting settled into life together and I finally have time to write more (no school, only one job). It is my plan to get the next chapter out to you in the next month. 
> 
> I had a hard time decided what parts of Tolkien's song (Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold) to include. He wrote two versions of the song, the one in The Hobbit a shortened version. The movie only included two stanzas of the song. I am going to include a copy of the full version in the Appendix for your perusal.
> 
> Much love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is marked as a series. As of right now, I am only planning on one story, although I might consider some one-shots if there is something you would like to know more about. Post your requests below. However, I have done so much research that I needed a place to put it all. The second story will be an appendix with all sorts of information and references. While I have already rewritten a great deal for the appendix, it will be updated after the story so nothing is given away.


End file.
